


All Mine

by reanimatrix



Series: Revolution [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F, F/M, Possessive Behavior, Self-Destructive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:08:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reanimatrix/pseuds/reanimatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veena Hawke, an impulsive mage, is in a complicated relationship with both Anders and Isabela. When Veena nearly gets herself killed for Isabela's freedom, Anders does not handle it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anders

He watched as she barely stood her ground, her short legs shaking like they would give at any moment, and he knew at that moment that there was nothing he could do for her, and that he might lose her. He shot a glance at the tall, dark skinned rogue who he felt was responsible and looked away. She looked just as worried as he felt, to his surprise. He thought Isabela incapable of caring for anyone but herself.

No, Anders knew better than that-- he saw too much of himself before Justice in the Rivaini woman to really believe that. He turned back to watching Hawke in her duel, biting his lip.

She was holding her ground, in that stubborn way of hers. If Hawke won this, it wouldn't be because of physical strength, it would be because Hawke did not know the meaning of giving up. She would survive out of spite, he told himself.

With trembling hands Veena Hawke took a long drink from a health potion-- it wasn't going to do very much except give her the strength to keep going.

The idea of Hawke taking the Arishok on by herself was ludicrous. As a matter of fact, it was something Anders and Varric might have joked about the day before. But not today.

She had marched into the room, himself, Varric and Aveline at her flanks, and only Anders could tell how much her heart was broken. He had been secretly glad to see Isabela go, until Hawke read the goodbye letter and looked like someone had stabbed her. That's when he had realized that as much as Hawke loved him, Isabela had a place in her heart he would never be able to fill, a smile all to herself that he would never have, even if she was gone.

But the city was falling apart and it needed her to save it, and if she had to save it then she didn't have to think about her run away pirate, or her broken heart.

The Arishok had looked at this small inconsequential woman, who had somehow earned his respect, despite the fact that she was female and that it was all wrong for her to be basalit-an. She was the only one who had shown any integrity in the city however, and he had been willing to deal with her, to consider her basalit-an, for lack of anyone more appropriate. You could read it in his grey eyes that he was disgusted by her, but that she was the best option he had to be able to communicate with anyone in this city that he hated, and she, oddly enough, loved.

She had looked back up at him, a fire in her tawny eyes that hid her pain, as she began to discuss the fact that they would never get their tome back, that Isabela had run off with it and probably in Tevinter by now. She was stuttering, but it seemed to be with rage rather than with the loathing of actually making the fact real by putting it into words that Anders knew to be the true reason.

And then she had burst in, in that way she had, making a scene. Isabela knew how to make a scene better than anyone Anders knew. But she had handed the Arishok his book and Hawke's face had lit up, and a smile-- that smile, Isabela's smile, not his smile, ever, had come on her face, making her even more beautiful than he already thought her.

Hawke had lunged at Isabela and wrapped her arms around her torso tightly, like she would never let her go again, as Isabela had handed the Arishok the tome and told him to take it.

And then there had been that conversation, and Anders had felt his heart sink.

“The relic is reclaimed,” the Arishok had stated as he handed the tome to another Qunari- they all looked the same to Anders, such was the purpose of their mindless hive, interchangeable parts of a machine.

“I am free to return to Par Vollen-- with the thief.”

Isabela and Hawke had both straightened, and Hawke had released her hold on Isabela to glare murderously at the huge Qunari leader. Anders cringed. There was no way Hawke would be stupid enough to--

“You take her over my dead body, horn-head.” Hawke snarled, and everyone in that room knew she meant it. There was no mistaking that tone.

Even the Arishok had been a little surprised by the venom in Hawke’s tone, as he pulled his majestic head back in surprise.

“Then you leave me no choice, Hawke. I challenge you to a duel to the death. The thief is the prize.” If Anders had thought him capable of it, he would have sworn the Arishok sounded amused.

Not the slightest bit of fear had registered on Hawke’s face, just complete and utter determination, that stubbornness that Anders had joked as he tweaked her nose lovingly would be the death of her. Now it looked like it really would be, and Anders could not allow it. He tried to speak up, to tell her to let the Arishok take Isabela, and Justice agreed, after all, she had stolen from them, she should be subject to their terms of justice. But then he stopped himself, knowing if he said anything like that, Hawke would never forget it-- if she survived. To think that she would listen to him, would remotely care that he didn’t want to lose her, when she was so determined, was not to truly understand Hawke. She, like himself and like her beloved Isabela, was a selfish creature. She would not be owned anymore than either of her lovers. And he was going to lose her, because of Isabela’s self-absorption. He fought Justice back and focused on his staff.

He could not allow it, but he had no choice.

“I accept your duel,” Hawke had growled, her brow furrowed in anger.

“NO!” Isabela spoke up, stepping between them, “I stole your relic, if you’re going to duel anyone duel ME!”

It was probably as obvious to the Rivaini that there was no way that Hawke would be able to withstand the Arishok, but this was a surprise. Anders mentally chastised himself for that thought. He knew that Isabela was not the selfish woman that she -- and to an extent he did too-- wanted to think she was.

The Arishok looked at Isabela like a pile of vomit he had just avoided stepping in on the street .

“You’re not worthy,” he deemed to say to her, “you are not basalit-an.”

And soon enough she would get her punishment, as far as the Qunari leader was concerned.

“I will see his entrails cover this room before I see him take you from me,” Hawke said, giving Isabela that same obstinate look, and though the taller woman looked stricken, she did not object any longer. She too, knew better.

Anders would have been amused by the melodrama of that statement, considering that he had said something about drowning them both in blood to keep her safe that she still wouldn’t let him live down. He hoped, stupidly, that he’d get a chance to remind her of this later, particularly because Hawke did not handle entrails very well at all.

Another louder part pointed out that she would never say that about him, and though he wouldn’t want her to, at the same time, it stung.

Before anything else could be said, Hawke, in her typical way, launched a fireball at her opponent. She was obviously bored with the talking and ready to start the fight. Anders knew that he could not heal her, that he would have to watch her die.

The Arishok had proven surprisingly agile, the fireball only grazing his shoulder. He shouted something furiously about saarebas-- their word for mages, Anders knew that-- and ran at her, all of his bulk, his sheer size and weight giving him impulse, his enormous two handed sword pointed straight at her, and Anders saw it, saw it pierce her through, saw her cough up her lifeblood---

But she managed to run out of the way just in time, using her smaller size to her advantage, and threw another fireball at the Qunari, which he dodged completely, as he ran at her again. She tried to step out of his way but only managed to avoid the sword, his massive shoulder hitting her squarely in the chest and sending her flying back against a wall.

And here she was, standing up, her legs barely holding her, looking somewhat better after the potion though, and this time she used her force magic-- Anders wasn’t very familiar with her school of magic, but whatever she did pushed the Arishok back and knocked him off his feet. That allowed her to catch her wind at least, before he attacked her again, but soon enough he was up, seemingly no worse for the wear, and launching himself at her again, and this time he caught her and Anders thought she dead, if the sword hadn’t killed her than certainly the force of that massive body hitting her much smaller frame had shattered her, but she pushed him away with another force spell.

She was breathing hard, silver hair in her face, but still not scared as she should be, only angry and determined, and she threw a fireball at him which hit his chest. He cried out, in spite of himself, and yelled what Anders was sure was foul language in Qunari. The only word he registered was again, saarebas.

And then he launched himself at her again and this time he really did get her, and lifted his two handed sword, her tiny, fragile body hanging off of it, and Anders heard Hawke scream, a cry that filled his entire universe, and he knew she was gone, and Justice was there.

It took everything he had for the spirit not to take over, but they-- even with Hawke gone-- had bigger things to work for. She wouldn’t have wanted him to lose his life like this, to out himself as an abomination in front of the entire city-- she would have wanted him to continue to fight for the mages, and that was the only thing that kept him in control.

He thought he heard Isabela scream, somewhere, a million miles away.

And he watched as the Qunari slid Hawke off the sword like so much refuse, her blood bright red on his sword. Anders tasted the bile in the back of his throat. This could not possibly be happening, not for Isabela, she simply was not worth Veena Hawke’s life.

Her small body fell to the floor with a thud, sounding more like fire wood hitting the floor than the body of the woman he loved more than anything, who should have been his, and yet would have never died for him like---

The Arishok had turned away from Hawke, ordering one of his faceless subordinates.

“Take the thief-- we return to Par--”

But Hawke was getting up, barely, but she was on her feet, and she somehow had found it in herself to throw a firestorm, which hit the Arishok full on, as he didn’t expect it. He cried out in pain and rage. Anders could smell the flesh burning, something he had never been so aware of before.

The Qunari was truly angry now, furious, and he ran at her again, as if to impale her one last time, to make sure the job was truly done, his two-hander at the forefront. She didn’t dodge him completely this time, he pinned her again, but this time...

Anders caught a glint of silver-- Hawke always carried a small knife with her, her “magic murder knife”-- and he watched as she shoved it up, as high as her arm would reach, and into a small silver eyeball, shoving the blade in with what was probably all the strength she had in her. The Arishok cried out in pain, and Hawke once more pulled down a firestorm, this time on both of them.

The great leader of the Qunari collapsed in front of Hawke. She stood in front of him, looking awed, still apparently unaware of her own insides spilling out. Anders hoped she wouldn’t look down as he ran forward to heal her, to see what the damages were.

But that stupid---  
That selfish---  
That bitch, she was there first, holding Hawke up because she could no longer stand by herself.

Anders watched Isabela take Hawke’s face in one hand, holding it up to look at her in the eye-- probably because she knew as well as everyone else that Hawke would not handle seeing her own organs spilling out of her well at all. Anders didn’t care what the reason was, he never wanted to see the Rivaini woman anywhere near Hawke again.

Hawke smiled at Isabela and used what little adrenaline rush she had left to push herself slightly up and kiss her, a long, deep, intimate kiss, full of triumph and affection.  
Then she passed out.

Anders’ eyes narrowed as he snatched Hawke from Isabela, giving her a dark and angry look, and gently set her down on the ground.

Isabela leaned back in surprise at his viciousness and looked slightly hurt, but he ignored it, focusing on Hawke.

Even now, he might not be able to keep her. After all that, he might lose her, just because his healing wasn’t good enough.

“Is there any way we can help, Blondie?” Varric asked from a couple feet away. It was an unsaid understanding that he needed space, apparently, and Anders was glad for it.

He took a deep breath as he looked at the damage-- the most obvious being the enormous wound running from her sternum to her belly button that had, thank the Maker, missed her heart and lungs. But there were broken ribs as well, and too many other bones.

“I’ll let you know,” he said to Varric, brow furrowed.

“Do you think she’ll... live?” Isabela asked quietly, in what was a very subdued manner for her.

But it was too much, and Anders was not up to dealing with this bitch when her ridiculous actions may have just cost Hawke her life and him Hawke. He glared up at her, and he must have looked angry because her eyes widened and she stepped back.

“I don’t KNOW. I think you should leave us. You’ve caused enough trouble for one day, don’t you think?” he asked, every word laced with acid, “after all, the only person to blame if she doesn’t make it is yourself.”

Except it was on him now, wasn’t it? Hawke was still breathing, but it was up to him to make sure she didn’t stop. He looked back down at her broken body and sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was pulled back in its usual manner anyway. It was a nervous habit, and he was beyond nervous.

“She just saved my LIFE, and you’re telling me to go away?” Isabela asked, not backing down now.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do,” he responded, not looking back at her. He didn’t have time for her childish behaviour right now. Where to start. Probably the wound-- make sure all the organs were intact, heal any back together that weren’t, make there was no chance for infection before he closed her up completely. It was going to be a lot of work.

“If you go to Hawke’s house, Varric, I should have a spare needle and thread there,” he suggested. Optimally he’d take Hawke to his clinic where he had all the supplies he would need, but she was in no condition to go there at this point and it would probably be for the best for her to rest at her house-- things would be cleaner there, at any rate. He frowned.

“Needle and thread?” Isabela asked, almost shyly. Almost shyly, but still rather questioningly all the same.

“Considering the amount of damage she took for you,” Anders said, with stress on the last word, “I don’t think I’m going to have it in me to use magic to close her up.” he didn’t look up at her, instead focusing magic on closing up the wounds to Hawke’s exposed organs. That was most important, particularly the liver and intestines, but much harder for him to do, as he didn’t have as much practice in it, and so it took concentration. But she was losing blood too, much too much of it, and he had to act fast, but couldn’t rush or he might miss something---

“Should we see if maybe there’s another healer in the Gallows?” Isabela suggested.

“I will be damned if I allow anyone else to touch her,” Anders growled, looking up at the tall woman with irritation and frustration. He’d just about had enough of her. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere. She saved my life, and---”

“GET OUT.”

“NO!”

“If it hadn’t been for YOU in the first place, she wouldn’t be in this situation. She doesn’t need you. All you’ve ever caused her is trouble and so help me if you don’t leave right NOW...”

His fists were clenched as he glared at Isabela, and Justice may have been partially speaking for him. He wouldn’t remember exactly later, but Varric said his voice deepened.

Isabela folded her arms and set her jaw, her brown eyes glaring. Aveline reached to say something to her, but before she could, the angry, determined look on her face became a scowl and she turned and walked out without another word.

“Good riddance,” Anders muttered, and went back to trying to fix Hawke. His Hawke, his beautiful, funny, sometimes incredibly stupid mage. The only one who believed in him, the only one who agreed with him where it mattered, the only one he knew he could trust implicitly and who made him feel less alone. Isabela couldn’t have her, and death would not take her so easily.

He hoped the rogue found a boat and never came back. Hawke would get over it. He scowled and went back to putting her internal organs together.

The damages to her insides had been pretty extensive.

He eventually got all her internal organs whole as they should be and made sure there was nothing that would create infection once he closed her up. It took a long time though, and he could sense her weakening. He had to minimize the bleeding if she was going to make it, and there were still bones to put back together and...

He fused her ribs back together, since they were already exposed, but each one took out a little more of his energy.

He was exhausted, but there was so much more to do. He hadn’t even considered the burns, though compared to everything else, they were minor. He’d seen much worse.

Varric had come back with the needle and thread a while ago, and now Anders took them and started stitching her up. She twitched, but didn’t wake, which he was thankful for. He pushed her skin back together like it should have been and stitched it, hoping that would make it stay in place. He was going to have to watch her carefully. She wouldn’t like the sedentary life she was going to have to lead for at least some weeks to avoid reopening that wound.

But it was closed, so at least the majority of the blood loss was stopped. There was just the rest of the broken bones to take care of, and the burns.

By the time he was done, he collapsed, gently, on top of her, wrapping his arms around her and listening to her steady breathing. He was pretty sure she was going to live, and she was his, and that was all that mattered. His head rested on her breasts, so he could hear the beating of her heart, and it was strong, already stronger than it had been when he’d first started.

“We should probably take her to her house,” Aveline commented.

“Uh-huh,” he replied.

“We need you to get up to lift her,” Varric pointed out.

“I can’t,” he replied, being honest. He was spent, so spent he doubted his legs would carry him. Aveline had to take his arms and pull him away in order to scoop Hawke up, and despite his exhaustion, he made sure the guard captain was being gentle. Her wound could still open, after all, and he made sure to point that out.

“Need a hand, Blondie?” Varric asked, offering said appendage. Anders took it and Varric lifted him up, letting him lean on his shoulder, though there was quite a ways to lean and not entirely comfortable.

“I think we should get you something to eat,” the dwarf suggested, but Anders shook his head.

“I need to go to Hawke’s house. She might wake up. She probably will... I want to be with her when she does,” he said quietly, but insistently.

Varric rolled his eyes but nodded. He didn’t seem surprised at all, and knew better than to object. It was proof of what a wonderful friend the dwarf was, and how much Anders didn’t deserve him, that he allowed the mage to lean on him the entire way from the Viscount’s palace to Hawke’s house.

“Master Anders!” Bodahn cried out as soon as he entered the house with Varric, “is Messere Hawke going to be all right? What happened? The guard captain came in with her, but she wouldn’t tell me...” The older dwarf was wringing his hands together, and Anders could tell he was honestly concerned about Hawke’s health. He had always liked Bodahn, but now he liked him even more.

He nodded at the dwarf weakly.

“I think she’ll be fine. I’m sure Varric will be glad to tell you the story, but I’d only believe about half of what he says...” he said, giving Bodahn a little smile.

Varric laughed at that.

“You going to make it up the stairs all right, Blondie?” he asked, looking sincerely worried. He was such a mother hen, though he would never admit to it, ever.

“They have a rail,” Anders pointed out, “but really, I’ll be fine... I need to keep an eye on Hawke. You tell Bodahn what happened.” What Isabela did. That hopefully they’d never see her again and Hawke would never think about her again. He wasn’t sure that Varric would include those parts, and he supposed that was all right.

Varric nodded slowly, watching Anders trudge up the stairs and making sure he didn’t trip as he started to relate the story-- a story that would make its way around the city and then some-- of what had just happened.

He made it up the stairs slowly, but with no problems, and then into Hawke’s room. She was in her bed, and Aveline had changed her out of her clothing and into her sleeping clothes. Anders was a little concerned that maybe the warrior had hurt the little mage. Aveline’s speciality was not gentleness, and he’d have to check on her stitches to make sure they were still intact.

Not in front of the red haired guard captain though-- he wasn’t sure she’d handle his concern too well, after all. And the guard captain was sitting at a chair next to Hawke, watching her sleep.

She looked up when Anders entered and smiled a little, and Anders felt a little guilty doubting that she’d taken the utmost measures to make sure not to hurt Hawke.

“So far she has been fine... her skin feels normal, and she’s said a couple things in her sleep... I think she’s just exhausted. You don’t look so good yourself.”

He nodded at her and then shrugged.

“Thank you for watching her, Aveline.” He said, nodding at the woman.

She nodded back as he crawled into the bed with Hawke, too tired to even bother taking off his boots.

The guard captain said something else he didn’t quite hear, as he pulled her close and held her... carefully, but with no intention of letting her go, ever, before his own exhaustion pulled him into a thankfully dreamless sleep.


	2. Veena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veena mucks up her own life. It's a talent.

Veena Hawke woke up in more pain than she ever remembered feeling in her life. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to think about breathing, even. She groaned and opened her eyes. There was a dog’s head on one side of her and a sleeping man with his arms softly wrapped around her on the other. That made her smile a little, particularly when the dog rolled her eyes up at her, worry written all over her heavy brow. She reached and scratched behind the pointy ears lovingly, allowing her mabari one loving lick of her hand and then turned to look at the scruffy mage sleeping on the opposite side.

Anders looked peaceful when he slept, more so than he ever did when he was awake, and it was nice. She hated waking him up, watching all the worries and regrets flood back into his face all at once. He didn’t get enough peaceful sleep as it was, between Justice’s demands and the whole grey warden screaming darkspawn archdemon thing that made absolutely no sense to her the one time Carver tried to explain it in a letter.

It also meant that they weren’t arguing, and that was nice too.

She gently ran a finger down his long nose and then brushed some stray hair out of his face. He must’ve been really tired, he didn’t even take his hair out of that silly pony tail he always put it in.

Even twisting her body slightly to watch Anders sleep like some creeper hurt after a while though, and she hissed in pain and rolled back over on her back. It felt like she had been hit by a run away bronto, and as she remembered exactly what had happened she realized it wasn’t that far from the truth.

She didn’t want to look down at her body, remembering something about being on the wrong end of an angry Qunari’s sword and having to hold her insides in without thinking about what she was actually doing. She tried not to think about having to hold her insides in, but Anders must have sensed the (painful) involuntary cringing she did at the thought because his brown eyes opened and he looked up at her.

“You’re awake,” he said with a smile.

“I’m _alive_ ,” she responded, with a grin. Probably thanks to him, come to think of it. No wonder he was so exhausted.

“For a moment there, I really was worried that wasn’t going to be the case,” he said, sitting up on his elbows. He hadn’t taken off his clothes before going to bed, not even his coat, she noticed. It was so dirty, he really needed a new one. She’d offered to buy him a new one a couple times but it invariably ended in an argument, like so many things.

“I admit I didn’t think I’d make it myself,” she admitted, sitting up carefully, slowly, and very painfully. She finally looked down and noticed that thankfully she was bandaged up, so she couldn’t see any of her wound yet. At some point she’d have to look at it. Oh Maker, she wasn’t looking forward to that.

“So then why did you do it?” he asked, with that edge in his voice that she couldn’t stand, like she was a child or otherwise incapable to reasonable thought. It made her bristle, invariably.

“Because I had to-- who knows what they’d do to Isabela,” she replied, her own voice taking an edge she didn’t like but couldn’t quite help. She was too sore to argue to argue right now, and she wanted to see Isabela, to make sure that the Qunari hadn’t just taken her anyway despite their obsession with their word. “Where is she anyway?”

“Do you really think she’d--- Oh, I don’t know. Probably found some other filthy raider’s ship to jump on, ” Anders replied irritably, “figuratively and literally.”

Hawke clenched her fists, grabbing at her sheets in anger.

“Just because that’s what you would have done before becoming an abomination gave you an actual conscience doesn’t mean that’s what she did,” she said before she could stop herself. Damn it. That was mean and unnecessary. She shouldn’t have said that. But he shouldn’t have said what he did either, she thought, and she was angry again.

The dog, sensing the tension between them, hid under the bed.

Anders was glaring at her, his brown eyes livid. She could tell it had hurt and she felt simultaneously ashamed and satisfied. She glared back.

“What does that even have to do with anything?” he replied, angrily. “That was just a childish insult.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Anders,” she responded, rolling her eyes, “you see your old self in Isabela and you hate it, and you take it out on her. You think you know exactly what she’s thinking or what she’s going to do next because it’s what you would have done before Justice. Well, you don’t. And you need to realize that you’ve grown past that and stop beating yourself up over it.”

He looked at her with wide brown eyes, like he wanted to reach over and shake her, like he had no idea what went on in her brain. Like she was stupid even, and Veena attempted to roll out of her bed to get away from him, she was so angry at him at that moment. It hurt, but she didn’t even care. It was her bed, technically, and she could have shoved him out of it, but she didn’t think about that until she’d rolled out and was standing up and the room spun and she wasn’t.

“You stupig--- argh!” Anders cried out in exasperation as he helped her up, “did you hit your head?”

“No,” she replied sullenly. She’d only hit her elbow, in that awful bone that made it feel all uncomfortable and tingly, but at least she hadn’t broken it. He’d be insufferable if she’d broken her arm falling out of her bed like a stupid ass. She wanted to push him away but she knew she’d fall if she did and it was infuriating.

Later, she’d be stunned at the speed at which he got from his end of the bed to the floor on her side, but right now she was just annoyed and frustrated and confused, and the room was still spinning.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he said, picking her up (surprisingly and infuriatingly easily) and putting her back on the bed.

She was still angry at him and tempted to kick him, but that would have been counterproductive to not ending up on the floor again. She was being surprisingly not impulsive today, she reflected. Perhaps it was lack of blood to the brain, but whatever it was she was actually very proud of herself.

She closed her eyes to make the room stop spinning.

“You should probably stay in bed,” he added, and it wasn’t helping, and she grabbed her pillow and threw it, though not at him, at least. That was something, wasn’t it?

“Well, you should think about that before sticking your neck out to someone who won’t be grateful anyway next time,” he added, and she could have sworn he was taking pleasure in her frustration.

“You’re not funny and you’re not right either,” she replied, “and anyway, I didn’t do it for her to be grateful. I did it because he wanted to take her from me.”

Like Isabela was property or something, she realized with slight shame. If she had left, Veena wasn’t sure she’d hold it against her. She stared at her lap and bit her lip, trying not to cry in front of Anders because then he’d worry about her and he had bigger things to worry about like, mage freedom and healing people. They were all so much more important than a stupid girl who treated him and everyone else around her like things. Was this what everyone else saw? What she was seeing at this moment? And why did they stay around if they did see that?

Regardless of her how hard she tried to hold them back, the tears came, and she couldn’t hold them back, it was like trying to stand in front of a pack of brontos. She tried not to sniffle but of course she couldn’t not sniffle without it getting disgusting.

“Are you crying?” Anders asked her, his voice much softer now. He sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“No,” she said, but her voice was raspy and she felt stupid because she couldn’t even hide that she was crying even though she didn’t want him to know. She indulged herself by leaning into his arms, even though she was being stupid and selfish and didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t know what to do with you, sometimes,” he said, quietly, kissing the top of her head. “I thought I had lost you and it terrified me, but you drive me insane.”

“I’d think you’d be relieved,” Veena replied quietly, wiping her nose on a bed sheet. She cringed a little and hoped Anders hadn’t seen that. Veena knew she was just a list of unsanitary practices that drove the healer nuts.

The dog, sensing the mood had changed again, crawled out from under the bed and jumped on it, licking the side of her face. Anders gave the dog a disapproving look but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, “you know, you’re right about Isabela... but I don’t blame her. I always knew she wasn’t... she wouldn’t... it’s not for the reasons you think.”

It was because she was possessive and stupid, because she held on too tight when she should let go, and maybe some day Anders too would realize that, and all her clinging would just leave her alone. He was bigger than she ever would be, his cause so much more important, and Justice was probably right, she was only hindering him.

“No,” Anders replied quietly, “I don’t think I’m right about Isabela, as much as I want to be.”

“Why would you want to be right about her leaving?” Veena asked, forgetting that Anders, like her, just wanted to be right in general. Thought he was right in general most of the time, and frequently was, which annoyed her to no end. She rubbed at her elbow, which still felt tingly and uncomfortable.

He shrugged and didn’t say anything but pulled her closer, kissing the top of her forehead again. She leaned into his shoulder and sighed. Her elbow stopped hurting, finally.

“And if she did leave... she’s a fool,” he said quietly, “It’s her loss. She, and I, and all of us, could never find someone like you, and any of us would be fools to give it up.”

Veena shook her head.

“I fought the Arishok so she could leave, if she wanted. So she could have her freedom. It’s hers to do what she wants with, even if it’s not something I like... even if it hurts, it’s a gift I gave her, and once a gift is given... you can’t tell someone how they’re allowed to use it.” she said quietly, thoughtfully.

“She’d still be a fool,” he said with a sigh, “but all the more for me.” He didn’t sound pleased when he said that, and Veena cringed a little, which was of course, painful.

“No, no it’s not you love. It’s... I’m being selfish. I’m only going to hurt you, and... it’s unfair for me to not be willing to share you. But I don’t want to.” he said quietly, ashamedly.

“Oh, quit being stupid and melodramatic,” she responded, rolling her eyes. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. That was something, right? “You think I can’t make my own choices? You think if I was worried about my poor fragile heart,” the last words were said rather mockingly, “I would still be here, with as many times as you’ve said that?”

“I know. I know. It’s just... you deserve better. I know you do. And yet you choose to stay, and I choose to stay, and... it’s very selfish of me.” He furrowed his brow.

“Anders, if you ever left me I would track you down, and you know that,” she stopped herself and thought for a moment, “well, if you left me because of some stupid sense of... being dangerous for me or whatever stupid shit. You’re free to leave... because you want, I mean, if you find someone else or you just don’t love me anymore.”

Except she’d really hoped he wouldn’t, because while she’d survive, it would be painful. She was strong, stronger than Anders was currently giving her credit for, but it would hurt, and it would take time to get over, and while she was strong she was not patient.

“But you shouldn’t,” he argued, “Veena, I’m an abomination, and I don’t think you quite get that sometimes.”

She tilted her head at him in sheer disbelief. Apparently he realized how silly that sounded because he looked a little sheepish, and she loved him for it, for that look on his face that spoke of so much vulnerability and self-doubt, even when he seemed so convinced of everything all the time. She’d seen him nearly kill an innocent young girl in emotional crossfire, stood between him and the child in her reckless stubborn way. She’d seen what he was capable of in the remains of Alrik’s body, that she had caught one brief glance of and then quickly asked Aveline to search for anything before turning away. They both knew that, he as well as she, and he realized after he said it that it was a rather foolish thing to say. She could read it in his face, and she laughed and hugged him for it.

“I don’t know why _you_ stay around, personally,” she replied, with a little giggle, “my moods change more than Varric’s stories and...” she shrugged, unsure how to finish her sentence.

“You’re... one of the few people who believes me, believes in me, in my cause, who listens to me and agrees with me... but you don’t agree with everything, you’re not afraid to challenge me, you’re not... not a sycophant, so it makes your support all the more meaningful,” he said, holding her close. “And I don’t want to lose that, or even share it, and I really really thought I was going to lose it in the palace. I thought I had, Veena.”

She didn’t apologize, because she would still do it, she’d do it again if she had to, for her best friend, or for him, or her mother or even her stupid dog who was sitting next to her watching them worriedly. It was just who she was and she couldn’t change it, and she knew deep down while he might resent it, he wouldn’t ask her to-- she wouldn’t be here with him if she ever thought he would.

“I just... I don’t know that Isabela’s life is worth---” he stopped when he saw the look on her face. She couldn’t see her own face, but the look must have been something to get Anders to stop mid sentence like that about something he obviously felt so strongly about.

“Why do you hate her so much? You don’t even try.” she said sullenly-- even though he’d stopped, the words had been there, hanging by a thread, unsaid but not unheard. She could fill in a sentence better than most-- she was not stupid, though she might sometimes appear it.

“I told you, she’s a shallow self-absorbed liar who doesn’t think of anyone other than herself. She doesn’t love you the way I-- the way you love her. She’s incapable of it. You’re only a fun fuck for her.”

The force that she used to push him away hurt, but she would be damned if she showed it. He caught himself so that he didn’t so much fall out of the bed as step away, but it was close.

"Shut up. Just shut up. You have no idea-- just shut up." she said, glaring at him. She hated him so much when he said things like that, partially because it was probably at least somewhat true, or somewhere, in the back of her head, she thought it must be somewhat true, but Isabela was better than even Isabela thought herself to be, and even Anders had remarked on that sometimes, so he was just being stupid. And they both they knew he was being stupid and he was doing it anyway, and Maker she did that all the time, but it wasn't the same!

“No, YOU have no idea!” he yelled at her, not even bothering to try to maintain calm anymore. She could see the fire in his deep brown eyes, the furrow of his brow, he was going to leave her, if she didn’t watch her step, if she wasn’t careful about her next words, he would walk out that door, and she would never see him again. She knew it, she knew it like she knew that she was breathing and that she loved him.

“You have no idea what it was like to watch you... to watch you DIE. Because you’d stuck your neck out for-- for that cold... that heartless... that woman!” He was so angry he was having trouble forming the words to express it. “You should have just let the Qunari have her, she stole from them! They deserved to bring her to justice!”  
“Don’t you DARE” she responded reflexively, and she wanted to stop, wanted to think, didn’t want to speak yet, but the words came unbidden and unwanted, and then the thought crawled into her brain and no, no she couldn’t say that, she couldn’t...

“That is a bullshit excuse. You’re using “justice” as an excuse for your jealousy. Because I wouldn’t do that for you.”

No it was a lie and why had she said that, why? Because he’d said those things about Isabela but... he looked so hurt, like she had thrown a fatal blow. And she had, he was going to leave her now, wasn’t he? She’d done it. Well, it was going to happen eventually.

Before he could even respond, or maybe because he was rendered speechless by her statements and accusations, she pointed at the door. “GET OUT. NOW. GET OUT!”

His eyes widened, and he looked even more like she’d just stabbed him, and she hated herself, but he was going to leave her, so she might as well-- she could always tell herself she did it before he could. It was better for him anyway. She had destroyed it all herself.

“I don’t want to see you ever again. I hate you so much right now. Get out. Leave.” She hissed. If she weren’t so weak she’d push him out of the door, out of her house, physically.

His movements were mechanical, as though his body was going through the motions because his mind was a million miles away. He turned around, and walked out of her room, and she watched him, watched him walk out of her door and out of her life and she loved him so much that she felt sick, but she didn’t tell him to stop, not to go, because it really was for the best.

And when she was sure he was gone, she let out a sob, let out the tears that she had managed, somehow, to hold back as she watched the man she loved more than nearly anything walk out of her life, most likely forever.

She was alone. Finally. She knew it would always end this way anyway.


	3. Isabela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela realizes that she loves Hawke, and what that love means she must do. Chapter 3 of 4, F!Hawke/Anders F!Hawke/Isabela.

The Hanged Man was dull. This was not something Isabela frequently shared, as it would make people suspicious. But it was, and she was getting tired of it.

She needed a boat. The problem was that she needed help getting the boat, and the best help she knew of was stuck in bed right now. Without her, which was also a bummer. If she’d been stuck in bed with Isabela, that would not have been nearly as bad. Oh no, not nearly as bad at all.

But back to the matter of a boat, since Varric had assured her that Hawke was fine, but that Anders was watching her like well, a hawk. Isabela wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with Anders being a huge bitch over what had happened. It’s not like she had forced her friend’s hand, she’d jumped in all by herself. She was a very intelligent young woman capable of making her own stupid decisions.

If she’d pushed Hawke in front of the Arishok and claimed Hawke would fight for her freedom against Hawke’s will that was one thing….

She sighed and took a long drink of the most disgusting ale she’d had in a long time. Well, it was something, wasn’t it?

She really needed to get out of Kirkwall. To get out of Kirkwall she needed Hawke. Once Hawke helped her get out of Kirkwall, she would get out of Hawke’s life, and everyone would be happier. She hoped.

She knew Hawke was attached to her, but really, that wasn’t her problem was it? People got over attachments, and though she liked Hawke, it would be for the best for the mage to learn not to get attached. It would save her pain in the long run. It was just all around the best, and easiest thing to do. Get her boat and get out, never see these people again, never bother them again.

So why was it so difficult? Why did she not want to stand up and go talk to her? Thanks were always difficult, but goodbyes were easy. It shouldn’t be this hard.

Determined, she slammed down the mug of piss-ale and stood up. She was going to go find Hawke and talk her into finding her boat as soon as she could safely get around. Anders be damned, he should be glad to her the hell out of their lives anyway.

There was an idea, an angle she could use to get him to not be a complete pain in her ass.

These fuckers were too damn complicated. She didn’t have time for them. There were boats to be sailed and sex to be had. On boats. With whipped cream.

But she if was going to get to the fun bits, she’d have to go through the unfun bits.

Like dealing with Hawke’s guard dog, and she wasn’t thinking of the mabari.

Ewww.

He was probably still with Hawke, as it had only been a couple days since her… dance with the Arishok. So she could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

Taking one last determined quaff of liquid courage, she slammed down the mug again. Isabela left the Hanged Man for the first time in two days and headed to that most boring of areas, Hightown.

“Messere Isabela!” Bodahn greeted her the moment she walked in, and it nearly made her jump out of her bloody skin. She had quit telling the dwarf to just call her Isabela, or Captain, if he had to use a title. Messere just didn’t fit, it was all wrong, but the dwarf couldn’t break himself out of the habit, and he just looked unhappy and antsy whenever she corrected him, and something so stupid as a title was really not worth that much grief for anyone involved.

“Bodahn”, she said with a nod, “Hawke is in, I take it? And Anders too, probably,” She tried not to sound as… unexcited as she felt about that second part.

“Actually he left yesterday, and I haven’t seen him since… Messere Veena didn’t sound too happy with him, I’m afraid,” Bodahn said, sounding a little concerned, and looking even more anxious than his generally anxious look.

“What?” Isabela asked, her brow furrowing in spite of herself. That shit caused wrinkles.

“Yes, it sounded like they were having quite an argument in her room… which isn’t rare, of course, but I think this one was particularly bad… Master Anders did not look pleased when he left, and I’m afraid he hasn’t been back.”

Well… okay. This was unexpected, and could, quite possibly, work to her advantage.

She tried to look sufficiently concerned with Anders’ disappearance and most likely failed, as she quickly skipped up the stairs to see Hawke. Maybe she’d get her ship back, and a good bye kiss (on both sets of lips) for the road. She laughed at that thought, and skipped through the door.

“Hey Hawke, it’s been a—”

Hawke looked up at her, her brown eyes enormous, like Isabela was a ghost coming to eat her soul or something equally interesting. It was oddly adorable, like everything Hawke did.

“I thought you weren’t coming back.” Hawke said, her voice hoarse. Now that Isabela looked more closely she could tell that she’d been crying. Her eyes were puffy, her long, hooked nose red at the tip. It was so unattractive, and if Hawke knew the amount of wrinkles crying caused then she wouldn’t cry nearly as often as she did.

Isabela sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to Hawke and trying to ignore the fact that she wasn’t wearing a shirt, just sitting up on her bed completely naked with her huge tits hanging out (and bandages around her ribs and belly, but better to focus on the tits than what was under those and why) and they were a beautiful pair, almost nice enough to rival her own, which both made her a little envious and a little horny.

Hawke inadvertently helped by pulling her comforter up to her chin, wrapping herself up in it, and looking at her so much more like a child than a lover that all of Isabela’s arousal sank like a man tied to a boulder. She wrapped her arms around the other woman and puller her close, kissing her forehead.

“I told you, you’re a bad influence..” That should make her laugh, at least a little.

She giggled, and leaned in close. Isabela could smell her, mostly she smelled like dog, probably because of the huge mabari that was curled up around the side opposite of Isabela’s. The dog hadn’t even opened her eyes-- Isabela was on the trusted list, thankfully. She’d hate to be on a mabari’s not- trusted list.

Isabela ran her hand through Hawke’s short, pure white hair, so stark against the dark skin of her fingers.

“I’m glad being a bad influence means you decided to come back... even if you only came back because you needed help getting a boat out of here.” Hawke said, the accusation badly hidden in a playful joke.

Isabela laughed, but it wasn’t entirely sincere. Why did she feel guilty? She didn’t owe Hawke anything. She didn’t make Hawke get hurt for her, it wasn’t her fault, why did she care?

She wasn’t going to get her damn boat, and she wasn’t going anywhere, and she... oh fuck, she was stuck, wasn’t she? She’d failed, she’d fallen, she loved this woman, beyond the fun giggly sex, beyond the lovely tits and the bouncy ass and the surprisingly skilled tongue, she loved her because Hawke loved Isabela with all her heart, because of that look on her face when she’d walked through the door of the palace with that tome, because she had agreed to fight the Qunari Arishok and had been willing to nearly die for Isabela, who did not deserve that from anyone, much less someone like Veena Hawke.

It went so far beyond the skin deep sex, and that bothered Isabela in ways she didn’t even want to think about right now.

“So what happened with Anders?” she asked, changing the subject, accepting her doom bravely.

“I told him to leave,” Hawke said quietly, her voice slightly muffled by Isabela’s shoulder but still understandable.

“What? Why?!”

“He was going to leave me anyway, eventually,” she replied quietly, not looking Isabela in the eye, “He always said he’d break my heart-- and I knew he would, but not for the reasons he thought-- so I...”

“So you broke his first? Oh, Hawke, you’re an idiot,” Isabela responded bluntly. Always bluntly.

“No! Yes... it was inevitable. We both knew it.”

“No, Hawke, it wasn’t. Don’t be stupid. You made it inevitable because you’re both ridiculous.” She couldn’t believe how annoyed she was at both mages. They adored each other, it was obvious, and yet they did stupid things like this.

Why was she staying again?

Because she loved them, in spite of herself, they’d knocked down her walls, and she wanted them to be happy, because that was what you wanted for people you loved, wasn’t it? Or at least that’s what you should want for people you loved. She sighed loudly.

“Anyway, he said awful things about you.”

“What?” Isabela looked at Hawke, somewhere between amused and horrified, “you... so?”

Who didn’t say horrible things about her? She said horrible things about herself, all the time. She didn’t care that people said horrible things, because most of the time they were true horrible things, and even if they weren’t true, what people said didn’t matter because _it wasn’t true_ so who cared?

Hawke cared because Hawke loved her and Hawke didn’t believe the things people said about her, even when she said them herself. Which would seem strange to Isabela except Hawke was convinced that she would eventually push all her friends away, but Isabela knew there were friends that Hawke couldn’t push away with all the levers on Thedas.

Herself included, apparently. Balls.

“He was saying awful hateful things about you, so I told him to leave because I never wanted to see him again, because I said terrible things about him, and...”

Isabela shook her head and gently hugged Hawke.

“You always say awful things to each other and get over it... because neither of you means it, and you both know it. And me... you don’t have to defend me, sweet thing. I can defend myself.”

“But you won’t because you believe all the things people say about you, don’t you?” there was an accusatory edge to Hawke’s tone that Isabela was more used to hearing directed at Anders.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does-- you’re a beautiful, wonderful woman and I love you, and I won’t let people-- you included, or Anders, or Andraste herself-- tell you otherwise.”

So stubborn. So deluded, and yet Isabela loved it, loved to hear Hawke say those things about her, wanted them so bad to be true. She wanted to live up to Hawke’s idea of her, but she knew that she couldn’t, and wished she could shake it into Hawke’s brain... but it wasn’t worth the effort.

She laughed, at the mental image of Andraste herself coming down from the heavens solely to announce that Isabela was a lying thief and less than a whore, only to get smacked in the face by Hawke’s staff in the most irreverent way. It was somewhat funny, and also, pleasant, in a strange way.

“Hawke I... you... I think you need some rest, okay sugar? I’m glad you’re okay, I really am.” She kissed Hawke’s forehead again, held her close, and then let her go, standing back up. “I’m going... for now. There’s other things I need to see about, okay? But I’m not leaving you. Don’t go all depressive on me.”

Hawke nodded and made an attempt to smile. Isabela smiled back and walked out the door, dreading what she had determined she had to do next.

She found him in dark town, in his clinic, surrounded by miserable wretches, just as she had expected. Somehow, even though he was surrounded by dying people, he seemed to be the most miserable.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, an eyebrow raised, once he noticed her, “I thought you’d be long gone.”

“No, see,” she responded dryly, “I thought your life could use some more screwing up.”

He wasn’t amused. He didn’t throw anything at her to try to kill her or turn blue, but it was still obvious that he was not remotely amused.

“Anders, I’m joking, you can’t possibly think I purposely---” she rolled her eyes, “look, you need to go back to Hawke.”

“Why do you care? More sex for you,” he replied sullenly, turning back to his patient, “look, I’m busy right now with someone who actually needs me--”

“Hawke needs you.”

“She has you. You can have great girl-sex and talk about girl things while you fondle each other’s breasts and she doesn’t have to worry about you being an abomination and-- no, you’ll break her heart too, but she seems bent on that.”

Isabela was somewhat grateful that Anders’ patient was unconscious, though she was sure others had their ears peeled. You didn’t get stuff this good outside of trashy books. She didn’t care, they could watch, and enjoy, whatever. You didn’t get much entertainment in Dark Town, in a way they were doing them a kindness. We could be poor and starving and diseased, they would think, but at least we’re not _them_.

“Look, I know she told you to leave but she always says stupid shit like that, and you say stupid shit back, and then you two get over it and have hot sex. That’s the rules of your relationship.”

“Doesn’t seem like a good relationship, but I suppose it works for you when she goes running to you to make it better.” So much resentment in his voice, if it had manifested physically he could have used it to bludgeon her to death.

She wanted to punch him so bad, break that big stupid nose, but that would lead no where productive. Who was this person who wanted to be productive anyway? She should just punch him in the nose. But then he was less likely to do what she wanted. That was more like the lines of thought she liked.

“What if she doesn’t? I won’t have sex with her anymore-- that’s what it is, isn’t it? You’re jealous-- it threatens you that she has sex with me.”

“Of course not, she’s a free woman who can chose to have sex with anyone she--”

“Oh just quit it with the ideals and tell the truth. You don’t want to share. You’d think she’d really want to share either? You think if you found yourself a man-- cuz I know you like men, I remember that night at the Pearl. It wasn’t just you and I, no matter how drunk I seemed at the time-- you think Hawke would be all ‘okay, whatever, I don’t own you, you can have sex with whoever you like?”

“Well, she would try--”

“Bullshit, your boy would be thrown out a window or set on fire or thrown out a window and then set on fire. Same if I found another lover, male or female. But she can have us both, she thinks, and don’t get me wrong, she’s... too good for me, anyway, but she is no where near as unselfish as she expects you to be.”

He laughed at that, probably because he knew it was accurate, as it wasn’t an entirely cheerful laugh. But at least it was a laugh, and she was getting somewhere.

“Look. I owe Hawke my life. I love Hawke, I do. I love her like... I haven’t ever loved anyone.”

Anders started to say something and she held up a hand to cut him off.   
“I love her so fucking ridiculously much that I’m willing to stay around, and I’m willing to never have sex with her again if you agree to go back to her and never leave her unless-- unless you honestly feel you have no other choice.”

“What?” he was looking at her like she had grown a second head, and she honestly couldn’t blame him. She could hardly believe she was saying these things.

“I’m willing to be... only her friend. Nothing more. You two can be what you want to be, and I will happily support you. Because I love her that much, but not that way.” She continued, staring at her feet, wondering if she was making a complete disaster of the whole thing, if any of it was making any sense at all to the man standing across from her all the way in Navarra.

“Look you don’t-- it’s really up to her--” Anders said awkwardly.

“But it shouldn’t be. Look, it wouldn’t be you saying that she can’t have sex with me, it’d be me saying I won’t have sex with her.”

“Because it bothers me, because I’m selfish.”

“We’re all selfish here. But what Hawke and I do... sexually is only skin deep. Sex has never meant love to me, and it never will. I love Hawke, but I don’t need to have sex with her to prove that.”

“I don’t either!”

“Oh will you stop? I’m not trying to make you look bad, I’m not competing with you, I’m not--” she wanted to scream and tear her hair out. She could see why Hawke found him so frustrating, because it was just like arguing with Hawke, who also made Isabela want to shake her sometimes.

“I’m trying to _help_ you!” she said a good deal louder than she meant to, and apparently he was as surprised at the loss of temper as she was because his dark brown eyes got wider and he leaned back.

“I want you and Hawke to be together because it makes her happy. And it makes you happy. And I love you both.”

He kept the stunned, surprised look, and she giggled.

“Not romantically... you are the closest to friends I’ve ever had... I’ve never even had friends in my crew, but you... and Hawke, and Varric, and even Big Girl, and of course Kitten... you’re my friends, and I love you, and I want you all to be happy. You’re good people, all too good for the likes of me, but hey,” she shrugged, “ I’m selfish, you know? You guys let me be around, and I like being around, so I stick around.”

She swallowed, surprised at how close to tears she was. It was just the dusty, grimy, Dark Town air. She need good sea air again, this shit was hell to try to breathe.

She wiped the tears away from her eyes (damn fucking bloody dirt) and looked at Anders.

He smiled at her, a gentle little smile that she didn’t like because it made her feel like she’d just shown weakness, but that she loved because it was such a rare thing from him. And it was true, she loved Anders, just like she loved all these other people Hawke had brought around her.

So much to be grateful to Hawke for. Her life, the fact that she wanted to live it, still.

“So you... we’re going to high town as soon as you’re done with your elf here,” she motioned at the patient, “take your time, I have all day, nothing better to do except loiter at the Hanged Man, and that gets dull after a while. Hell, I could help.” she offered, but he shook his head very quickly and went back to tending to his patient.

Isabela wasn’t offended. She certainly wasn’t the medical type, and that was okay. She waited though, with arms crossed, watched him tend to another patient who seemed urgent, and then a couple more. She didn’t mind, Hawke was hopefully getting much needed sleep and it was nice to see her friend (such a strange word, it felt so unnatural and uncomfortable in her mind) in his element, doing what he was best at. She wondered if this what she looked like when she was on a ship-- not like a skinny, dirty, blond mage-- but that concentration, that satisfaction, that certainty. Like he _belonged_ here as much as the table and the bandages and the salves.

When he was done, she took his arm and dragged him up to Hightown before he could find any way to put it off any longer. She understood that lot of those people needed immediate care, but he’d been too eager to help some of those who very obviously didn’t for her tastes.

He was avoiding facing Hawke. Coward. She loved him so, anyway. It was nice to finally admit that. Isabela hated dishonesty, even from herself. Funny, considering how frequently she lied.

The giddiness, the weightlessness of finally admitting that she had friends, people she had the nerve to care about-- it made her run to Hightown, dragging the tall skinny mage behind her whether he could keep up or not.

“Mess--Isabela! Master Anders! So nice to see you both again!” Bodahn’s voice betrayed his surprise when she barged through the door with Anders in her wake, though it was obvious that he didn’t want to, as it wasn’t good batman behavior. Not that Veena Hawke gave two shits about good or bad servant behavior, much to the other Hightown inhabitants’ dismay.

One of the reasons Isabela loved her so.

“Hello Boda--” Anders said, but Isabela was dragging him up the stairs before he could say much else, and then they were in Hawke’s room, and Hawke was sitting up staring at them, brown eyes huge, holding her side. At least this time she’d pulled her covers up with her right away.

“Is everything--- everyone okay?” she asked, cringing a little.

Anders was immediately at her side, looking over her bandages and making sure she was okay.

“Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?” He asked.

“I’m f-fine... just sat up too quickly, I guess, but are you two okay? The way you came in here...” Hawke said, watching him, looking incredibly confused.

“We’re fine. Anders and I both need to talk to you, though,” Isabela said, looking meaningfully at Anders, who was as far as she was concerned, trying too hard to play doctor and avoid the confrontation. Where the hell was the stick-in-the-mud just now? _He_ loved confrontation.

But this was about love, not about mages’ rights, and that was a completely different horse that the fade spirit was completely unequipped to handle. Perhaps that was why he was so eager to avoid it.

He looked up at Isabela, unsure. She’d have to do the talking. Oh well.

“Hawke, I think it’s for the best that we not have sex anymore.” She said bluntly. Always bluntly.

Hawke looked stunned, and then annoyed.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it makes Anders miserable, and that makes you miserable, and I love you both too much to see you miserable.”

“But--”

“I think Anders would really prefer monogamy. I think... if you just take a second to think about him finding another lover, you’ll understand why.”

“If he wanted to find a man to fulfill his desire for them, I would never hold it against him!” Hawke snapped immediately, much too defensively.

Anders gave Isabela a look that said ‘I told you so’ but she ignored it, shaking her head.

“Don’t lie- Hawke-- Veena-- think about Anders in the arms of a lovely, sexy man. A big warrior, maybe. With strong arms and a huge penis. Brown hair, blue eyes, dark skin... think of Anders kissing him---” the look on Hawke’s face said it all, and Isabela laughed.

“Now try to tell me that you wouldn’t be jealous. I know you worry he’d rather be with a man, that you don’t satisfy him completely, you _told_ me so.”

Anders looked stunned, and Hawke looked livid.

“You told me you wouldn’t--”

“I think it’s for the best that I do, and I hadn’t told him before this, only in front of you, right Anders?”

He nodded, but looked horrified and stunned.

“You talk about me to her?” he protested at Hawke, “You never tell me about HER!”

“That’s because there was nothing to tell,” Isabela interjected before Hawke could say anything, “like I told you at the clinic, what Hawke and I do isn’t complicated, it’s not about love, it’s about shits and giggles and getting off.”

“She’s right...” Hawke admitted, staring very pointedly at her blankets, not at Anders or Isabela, slowly she looked back up at Isabela, her full lower lip quivering, “but Isabela I LOVE you!”

Isabela walked over and kissed Hawke’s forehead again.

“I love you too, Veena. I’m not _going_ anywhere. I love you so much that I’m sticking around. But it’s because I love you, and I want you to be happy, and I know you love Anders in a different way that you love me, that I won’t have sex with you anymore.”

“It’s different, but I don’t love him _more_!” Hawke protested, close to tears. She has holding her blanket very tight, so tight the skin on her knuckles was considerably paler than the Rivaini tone she shared with Isabela.

“I know. I know, sugar. It’s okay, “ She muttered quietly, stroking the soft, pure white hair, “different does not mean better or worse.”

Hawke nodded and sniffled, but she understood. She gave Isabela a look, and the two women loved each other enough that that is all that was necessary.

Isabela gave Veena one last kiss on the lips-- very gentle, but full of love, and then left the two mages to work it out.


	4. Epilogue- Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue- Anders and Veena Hawke discuss their relationship.

Anders watched Isabela leave from the corner of his eye, still examining how Hawke’s wound was healing while she pointedly looked away. He knew it was not permanent, and that was okay. It made him happy even, because despite everything, or perhaps because of it, he rather liked the rogue. As long as she kept her promise to stay away from Hawke.

There were no signs of infection, and he used what little magic he had left after all the catching up he’d done at the clinic to encourage the healing-- just a little, if he was going to really heal it completely he’d have to take out the stitching and he wasn’t sure how squeamish, jittery Hawke would handle that. Better to let it heal naturally at this point, with a little help now and then.

She squirmed slightly, and he looked up at her, kissing her chin lightly. She giggled at that and he moved up, encouraged, and kissed her lips. They were his, all his, and no one else would have them. She apparently liked that because she took a hold of the back of his head and pulled him closer, encouraging him with her lips to deepen the kiss. He gladly complied, resting a hand on her thigh.

“I missed you,” she said, somewhat breathlessly, after they broke their kiss.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“You really worried I’d... leave you for something as trivial as your anatomy?” he asked her, playfully, amused. It was so silly, with how much he loved her, with everything that she did for him and that she meant to him, for her to be worried about something so superficial. But Hawke was silly, and insecure, for reasons he’d never be able to really understand, and it shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did.

She shrugged, looking sheepish and biting her lower lip.

“I wish she hadn’t told you that...”

“Hawke... I like men, it’s true. I like women too. But more importantly, I _love_ you. I love your personality, the things you say, the way you think. Yes, I like your body too, and I love the things we do with your body... but if it was a different body I would still love it just as much, because it’s yours.”

She looked like she might cry, but he could tell from the look in her tawny eyes that it was overall a good kind of crying. He’d just done well. Good.

“I’m glad Isabela told me that, because I thought you knew already,” he added, kissing her cheek and taking her chin in his hand, making sure she was looking him in the eye. Hawke had a tendency to look down, look away, when he said good things about her. They scared her, he suspected, she did not believe them, did not want to. This was something else that he didn’t understand about her, that he suspected he never would.

He still knew, somehow, that it was important that she look him in the eye right now.

“I don’t fall in love with bodies-- lust, yes, I definitely lust after bodies, and I can assure you I lust after your body plenty but... I love you-- what makes you you, whether it’s a soul or whatever--- the part that isn’t connected to your body, that would be like that regardless of what kind of body you have.

“I love you, and I love everything about you, because it’s yours. No... man could replace you, because they wouldn’t _be_ you-- they wouldn’t think like you or speak like you or laugh like you.

“That’s so much more important to me than just sex. I do... did the skin deep thing, like Isabela does. What we have isn’t that. So it’s not about what you have or don’t have between your legs. It never will be, and I’m sorry that you ever felt that it might.”

She giggled, a sharp, sheepish, tearful giggle.

“You know me,” she said, her voice high with emotion, “I... worry too much, I suppose. I wasn’t trying to say that you’re shallow...”

“I know,” he nodded at her, “I’m just... reassuring you, because you seem to need it, and I don’t want you to worry over things that you don’t need to worry about. You have enough to worry about as it is.”

She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her, gently because of her wound, and held her close. She returned the embrace, and smiled at him, a smile that he felt, Isabela would never get either. Maybe she had her own smile that was saved for her, but it wasn’t this one. This one was all his.

The End


End file.
